


.betty

by sanchan06



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanchan06/pseuds/sanchan06
Summary: Charles finds himself talking with his mam over tea about a little lamb left back in LA (semi-angst/fluff). [inspired by 'betty' from T. Swift]
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Kudos: 36





	.betty

_===========_

_You heard the rumors from Inez_

_You can’t believe a word she says_

_Most times, but this time it was true_

_The worst thing that I ever did_

_Was what I did to you_

_betty – Taylor Swift_

_===========_

“Those are lovely,” The Uber driver commented on the bouquet of pink anemones in Charles’ lap, “Lucky lady?” The driver asked as she glanced at the blonde Welsh man in her rearview mirror.

“You could say that.” He replied while staring out the window at the red and golden leaves falling past as they drove past rows and rows of trees while recalling the conversation he had with his mother before his return flight to New York.

_“You’re being daft, Kit,” Mammy chuckled as she playfully pressed her fingertips to his knitted brow, seemingly pleased at his inner turmoil following a livestream teleconference announcing the latest projects from The Bathhouse, a Young Industries subsidiary specializing in multiplatform indie gaming, featuring lead game designer Samara Young and business partner and celebrity streamer Marshall Law._

_===========_

_Wales. **30-something hours previously.**_

Elizabeth hadn’t thought too much of it when Charles received an event notification and asked if he could play the video on his laptop while they were finishing in the kitchen after Saturday’s roast (Traditionally it would be on Sunday, but exceptions were made when her **bach** was able to visit on a business trip). But her interest peaked when he mentioned it was of Samara and her start-up company at New York City Comic Con.

She had briefly met Samara during a trip to London. Elizabeth considered it fortunate she and Charles both had business to attend to in London but even more so to see the effect Samara had on her kit, glimpses and shadows of who he was before the **incident.** She had hoped to see Samara again. However, sometime after Charles had accepted a transfer to New York. Which was a good business opportunity and brought him slightly closer across the pond, but would no longer be in close proximity of Samara, who she suspected meant a great deal more to Charles than he’d ever admit. Charles hadn’t openly discussed whether they still remained in touch, but slight suspicion turned into sly amusement while sipping her tea and watching her son engrossed in the online video.

There were few who understood Charles and saw past the genteel manners and stalwart features, no more so than his mam who easily recognized the subtle shifts in his demeanor. The glow in his eyes when the moderator first introduced Samara; pride as the young woman began in earnest conversation about negotiating a contract with Funtindo to release their games on their latest doodad; tenderness as Samara spoke animatedly (unbeknownst to her on its significance) without pause or stutter; blatant shock when the overhead projector screen displayed concept game art featuring a face she knew and loved all too well, her son’s doppelganger engaged in a duel with a sorceress, long auburn hair cast about while preparing a spell, determined brown eyes locked against frigid blue; and even longing? His gaze soft as Samara explained her inspiration for the game design.

“Characters from my last game, Ruminate, were based on family and friends. This one,” Sam gestured to the image behind her, “Is also dedicated to a dear friend and mentor of mine. He taught me the business-side of the industry and gave me the confidence to develop and launch The Bathhouse. I’m so thankful for the support from my friends and family and the fans!” Sam gave a dazzling smile to the audience cheering in the conference room. “But especially to him, I will always be grateful,” her voice suddenly quieted with a look that nearly mirrored her son’s.

It was soon replaced with a quickened blush spreading from her cheeks to her rather ample bosom (Her son had his preferences, she knew) when the moderator asked if Sam’s mentor was just as handsome as the character design. This elicited a chuckle and the trademark Jones’ smirk from her boy, the tension released from his shoulders. “She describes them and I draw them,” Marshall quipped beside her, distracting the room from the earlier question with a sketch pad and began drawing a game scene with input from the audience.

Elizabeth glanced at Charles who continued to watch the screen intently, his eyes fixed on the petite brown-haired woman and then resumed washing the dishes when the attention shifted to Marshall. To anyone else it may have appeared as passing interest. But she knew her kit.

He was always a keen observer from the start and she taught him how to nurture those skills. How use them to his advantage whether in chess tournaments, fencing matches or his personal and professional interactions. But he was never good at shielding his emotions, a contentious point when he first started in the corporate world. She cautioned Charles to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve or else it would be used as target practice.

Unfortunately, her words wouldn’t sink in until after the **incident**. Charles would recover, she knew, but at the cost of his dear heart, becoming more determined, ruthless, guarded and cold. So very cold.

So it amused her to no end, seeing Charles nearly flustered over his Ms. Young, her kind words and tribute to the role he played in her life. She enjoyed seeing the unabashed warmth in his eyes when the livestream finished with a short Q & A and selfies with the moderator and the audience by Marshall on Ms. Young’s phone.

Charles hadn’t discussed about any lingering attachments to Los Angeles now that he was based in New York aside from what he claimed was a business contact. But Elizabeth highly doubted a business contact would require correspondence on a near daily basis. Her suspicions were confirmed when Charles’ phone chirped, the now familiar sound of a bell (and was that a lamb bleat?) designated for a specific contact, causing him to reach over for his phone soapy hands and all to read the message.

“It seems like Samara is doing well. She was such a lamb, I hoped you’d bring her back for another visit” Elizabeth commented while finishing her tea. “Is she the business associate from Los Angeles that you still keep in touch with?” She smiled at Charles’ response, nearly dropping the phone while attempting to brush off the confusion and shock at his mammy’s question.

“She contacts me occasionally and I consult her on business advice.” Charles wiped a sudsy hand with a towel before unlocking his phone.

“For free?” An eyebrow quirked, “Darling you easily charge several figures as a business consultant and she’s got you on retainer.”

“I was the one who first mentored her at Young Industries when she was developing her start up. It’s only right she should come to me for her needs.” Charles tried to casually shrug his shoulders but came off more like a spastic twitch as Elizabeth stood to place her empty mug in the sink.

“Don’t play with me kit, you may fool the rest of the world with your charming and beguiling ways,” Elizabeth turned to look directly into her son’s eyes, “But my sly, sly fox, who was it that taught you in the first place?”

“You, mammy.” Charles’ relented under his mother’s fierce gaze. Although she was much smaller compared her oak tree of a son, Elizabeth had a notorious reputation for her cutting stare, artic frost eyes and crackling disposition, fitting for an ice queen. It certainly gave her an advantage in her business dealings whenever others underestimated her as a diminutive woman and a single mother, a mistake that was hardly repeated.

“And never forget it.” Charles made a weak attempt to hide the phone from her, but Elizabeth was able to see the selfie Marshall took earlier displayed with the caption ‘Panel was a success!’ below the image as an email attachment clearly from Samara. “It’s obvious she means a great deal to you. Is that why you chose to fly abroad this weekend instead of staying in New York where Samara also happens to be at the same time?” She gave her son a pointed look as he struggled to avoid direct eye contact with her.

“There were high-priority dealings that needed to be accomplished- “

“That couldn’t be done via teleconference?”

“It was already scheduled to occur before I found out Ms. Young was told she would be featured at New York City Comic-con- “

“As if you weren’t keeping track of her to begin with, you’re stalling, kit.” Charles sighed and moved to sit at the kitchen table, keeping some distance from Elizabeth who followed and sat in the chair next to him. “What happened? You never explained why you accepted the transfer to New York.”

Charles crossed his arms with one hand on his face, fingers covering his lips. She recognized the gesture as an attempt to disguise his feelings. “It was a good opportunity, closer to home,” Charles faltered when the room seemed to drop a few degrees, an icy aura emitting from his mam, “And it was time for me to leave. I couldn’t stay,” Charles voice caught as he recalled the night he made the decision to leave. “Not after what I did to Ms. Young.” A hazy fog seemed to creep into the room. “I-I was a perfect gentleman,” he stammered in his defense, “I just couldn’t give her what she asked of me.”

The fog immediately retreated when Elizabeth looked to her son, his face downcast with regret. “And you thought it was best to push her away.” She sighed all too aware of her son’s idiosyncrasies when it came to matters of the heart. “Kit,” Elizabeth softened, “When I told you to guard your heart, I didn’t mean for you to lock it away so completely. It doesn’t make you any less for loving someone and wanting to be loved in return.”

“She deserves someone better. Someone who isn’t broken and tarnished like me. Someone who will take her at her word and not suspect her of treachery and ill-intentions. Someone who will love her without hesitation-”

“That isn’t your call **fy machgen** ,” Elizabeth grasped Charles’ hand to stop his self-loathing mantra, “What matters is what she wants and what you’re willing to do for it.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “What does she want?”

“Me.”

“And what do you want?”

“Her.” Charles was nearly surprised how easily the words passed his lips. For all of his mornings and darkened nights, he wanted **her**. “But she’s still young and has her whole life ahead of her and people can change, she -“

“Kit, she’s not Gweneth,” Elizabeth pinched Charles’ hand in a tight grip this time. “She was a twat for what she did to you and a dark mark on my otherwise stellar record of excellent judgement but you cannot place those expectations on Samara. Not when I’ve seen what she’s done for you and you for her.”

“Mam you’ve only met her once.” Charles chuckled, exasperation mixed with mirth at the crass descriptor his mother kept in reserve.

“And it was enough. You damn well know how perceptive I am especially when it comes to you. Maybe you’d be less flummoxed if you just listen to me more.”

“Which is why I try avoiding these conversations in the first place.” Deep down he knew his mother was right. The weak excuses he knew he was using to justify his distance from Samara were exactly that, weak in a vain attempt to avoid being hurt again.

Being alone meant he wouldn’t be hurt, the devastation following the **incident** at last formed scars over the wounds he kept hidden for so long. Dull aches in the dead of winter instead of the sharp knives cutting into his gut. He would be safe, but… “What if it’s too late?” He looked to his mother, a rare vulnerability she was privy to.

“Then you beg for forgiveness and if she still chooses not to take you back, accept your failing but take comfort in knowing you tried instead of being a coward afraid to take the risk.” Elizabeth replied pragmatically. “Do you know where she’s staying?”

“No.” Charles confessed, uncomfortable under the return of his mother’s glare. “But I can find out.”

Elizabeth sighed, the artic chill receding as she placed her fingertips on Charles’ forehead. “Don’t be daft kit.” She smiled smoothing away the worry lines on his brow, “And have a little faith. I think she’s worth placing your trust in. Don’t you?”

_===========_

_New York City. **Present-day**_

30-odd hours later Charles was back in New York, fighting abrupt time zone changes on little sleep as the conversation he had with his mother played in a loop throughout the entire trip _._

**“ _What matters is what she wants and what you’re willing to do for it.”_**

And what was he willing to do, Charles thought as the cab pulled up to the brownstone Samara and her friends were staying in for the next couple of days. Samara sent him an email letting him know she would be in New York for the convention but would still be in town afterwards to present several proposals to the Funtindo US headquarters. Originally, he responded he would be in the UK while she was in New York and it was unfortunate they would just miss each other. But it was an excuse, a weak-willed one he could now admit after being bested by his mam. Because he knew as he walked up the steps, the moment he saw her in the doorway with her reassuring smile and unwavering faith in him, he could never leave her side again.

**_“What are you willing do, kit?”_ **

His mam’s voice echoed as he gripped the bouquet of pink anemones (Samara’s favorite). He hastily composed a text to Samara before his flight from Heathrow saying he had finished early and was flying back to New York if she was free to meet. Just as he was boarding his flight, she had replied with an address and a time she would be available. As his hand hovered over the intercom panel, sinking doubts and insecurities bubbled to the surface. What if she didn’t answer? What if she turned him away? What if he truly was the villain in this story?

**_“I think she’s worth placing your trust in.”_ **

_So do I_ , that single thought pushing past all else when Charles pressed the button to Samara’s unit. The intercom buzzed and with a click, Samara’s voice filled his ears and warmed his being. How long had it been since they last spoke? They primarily communicated through emails and text messages with an occasional phone call in between because…Because it was easier to keep his distance like the coward he was. “Hi Bunty.” He replied, “Can I come in?”

“No,” The word nearly took him aback but really, after everything, “I’ll come down.” Charles stood, stock-still and surprisingly nervous as he waited for Samara, panic unexpectedly surging as her figure approached the entrance. How she could profoundly affect him so even after all this time, he thought when she stepped outside in a light purple sweater and fitted jeans. He could sense the slight hesitation in her stance, eyes nearly reluctant to meet his. And in that moment, he swore he would do anything and everything, beg for her forgiveness, crawl on his knees, _anything_ if she would stay.

Before Sam could say a word, Charles burst out, “I’m sorry, for everything. You were right, I was an idiot, a classic fool, a coward in the truest sense. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, you have every right not to,” The words continue to spill forth, the dam finally breaking. “But Samara, I’ll do whatever it takes for you, only you, whatever it takes for the rest of my life because I-“ Samara silenced him with a hand to his lips, unconsciously kissing her fingertips before placing another on the scar across her palm.

“Well,” Samara pinked as Charles gave a playful bunt against her outstretched hand, “You must be exhausted after your trip.” She lowered her hand only to wrap both of them around Charles’ “See, your hands are cold.” She returned the gesture, kissing his knuckles then looking at him with a small smile. “Those flowers are beautiful,” Samara glanced at the anemones before looking back, eyes meeting eyes. “Would you like to come inside?”

Forever.

For always.

“Yes,” Charles sobered after his little outburst, the small glow in his chest beginning to spread. Samara took his hand and led him inside the brownstone. There was still too much unsaid, explanations needed to be given, and much groveling on his part.

But it was a start.

_===========_

_Yeah, I showed up at your party_

_Will you have me?_

_Will you love me?_

_Will you kiss me on the front porch in front of all your stupid friends_

_If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?_

_Will it patch your broken wings?_

_I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything_

_But I know I miss you._

_===========_

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s notes:
> 
> I think of Charles being like a sly fox, hence the nickname ‘kit’ from his mam, not sure of her actual name, but she seems like an Elizabeth? Also some sprinklings of welsh, Fy machgen (my boy), bach (Also boy?)


End file.
